


'cause i knew everything when i was young

by pelita



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, M/M, Post-Break Up, Post-Time Skip, Sakusa Kiyoomi-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:14:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26811229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pelita/pseuds/pelita
Summary: It’s Miya Atsumu, after all.Miya Atsumu, a big foul-mouthed jerk, who, at all times, tries to accommodate to Kiyoomi’s needs. There is no one else like him, someone so aggravating yet so understanding; Kiyoomi is very much fond of his everything. Over a year of relationship and he doesn’t remembereveradmitting this fact to his former significant other. If he did, perhaps Atsumu wouldn’t have left him like this; to break and crumble apart while waiting for the pedestrian crossing light to turn green
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 8
Kudos: 65





	'cause i knew everything when i was young

**Author's Note:**

> hello !!! please read before you proceed with reading. 
> 
> this fic is inspired by the song cardigan by taylor swift !!! I suggest you listen to the song while reading.
> 
> here are some content warnings to be mindful of before reading: descriptions of regret and heavily missing the presence of someone. also yes, the conflict is very much unresolved so if that makes you uncomfortable, you can click away.
> 
> if you're still here then happy reading! I hope you will enjoy my work.

"See you later then, Omi-kun."

Atsumu's last words—before he dragged his feet out of their apartment for probably the last time—rings in Kiyoomi's mind. _No, not their apartment_. It occurs to Kiyoomi just now, the certainty that this place is no longer their home. It is only Kiyoomi’s.

It isn’t easy to be alone. Not when you’re so accustomed to walking home side by side with your boyfriend after long hours of practice. When you're so used to coming home to him, with his arms open for you to hug after a long day. When despite your excessive cleanliness and introversion, you still share everything with him; from your clothes, feelings, and even your home.

It isn't easy for Kiyoomi to come home tonight. The sidewalk—where rows and rows of people are walking by—feels so empty. How long has it been since the last time he walked home alone? He can't remember. 

Kiyoomi shoves his hand into the pocket of his gold-colored team jacket. He sees his skin turning red from the shivering cold winter air. _Something is missing_ , the presence of Miya Atsumu to make sure that cold hands are never an issue. Those strong arms and cheeky smile, constantly finding excuses to graze the tip of Kiyoomi's skin. (Kiyoomi likes it although he would never bring himself to admit it.)

Their touches are always kept private, locked away inside the safety of their own home. Sometimes, there are a few exceptions; empty locker rooms and hallways where they are sure no one would walk in and see. However, Atsumu—being the little shit he is—would make up excuses to get Kiyoomi's permission to be more touchy in public. His favorite excuse to use is the cold weather.

_“Are ya cold? D’ya want me to warm you up?” he once said, scooting a little closer to Kiyoomi until their arms brushed. “Lemme put my arms around ya just for once, Omi-kun.”_

_Kiyoomi rolled his eyes, ignoring him, but Atsumu chose to not give up. He started nudging Kiyoomi’s elbows and proceeding to block his line of vision by waving a single hand._

_“C’mon Omi-kun. Whaddya say?”_

_“Miya,” Kiyoomi warned, not even bothering to turn his head towards Atsumu's direction._

_"Alright, alright. Geez. No need to be so prickly 'bout everything."_

_Silence fell between them. Kiyoomi paid no mind to it until he took a quick glance at Atsumu and saw the expression on his face. There were crinkles between his eyebrows, and his arms were crossed tightly around his chest. Something tugged at Kiyoomi’s heartstrings as he stared at the frown plastered on his lover's face. Kiyoomi made a mental note to be more aware of his actions considering how sensitive his boyfriend could be. (So easy to upset but easier to un-upset. The simplest acts of affections were enough to put a grin back onto his awfully handsome face.)_

_"Atsumu," he said before making the move to lace their fingers together. Atsumu's hand had always fit perfectly in his. Kiyoomi held it tightly before shoving both of their hands into the pocket of his jacket. He managed to catch Atsumu’s reaction, mouth slightly opened and eyes gleaming like he had seen a shooting star. Kiyoomi couldn't help but smile at the sight. Good thing that he was always wearing a mask._

_"Omi-kun, didja just smile? I swear I could see yer eyes crinkling a lil bit.” Kiyoomi just knew that Atsumu had the most smug-looking grin plastered on his face at that moment. Kiyoomi didn’t look at him because if he did, he might have grown an urge to kiss him right there on the sidewalk._

_“No.”_

_“Don’t lie, I know I’m too cute even for yer prickly ass to handle.”_

_“Gross.”_

_“Aha, keep tellin’ yerself that, Omi. I know ya love me,” he said, seeming more like he was talking to himself rather than to Kiyoomi._

_Even though he would never admit it, Kiyoomi did think he was cute. This time, Kiyoomi didn’t even bother to hold back his smile. The crinkle of his eyes and pink blush creeping out of his mask, he let them free to be seen. He didn’t care because **he was happy**. He was happy to have Atsumu. Someone that, somehow, was able to balance every aspect of his life. Someone who brought a bit of a mess into his too organized excuse of a life. Someone who had accepted him even with all the differences he had. Someone who pushed him out of his safety bubble while—at the same time—slowly becoming his own comfortable constant._

Kiyoomi stops at the konbini. 

He slips through the glass doors and walks straight to the all-too-familiar aisles located on the back of the store. It feels funny to be standing here, reaching out for a can of disinfectant spray and two packs of baby wipes; to walk to the store clerk all alone, pull a few notes out of his wallet, and force a smile onto the flushed skin of his face.

It hits him like a truck, the realization that, at some point in his relationship with Atsumu, he has torn down the walls a little bit too much. How could he have let himself grow so dependent? When all the wipes, spray cans, and bottled gels start to restock themselves inside his home, it seems like there is no method to steer clear of the growing warmth inside his fragile heart.

It’s Miya Atsumu, after all. 

Miya Atsumu, a big foul-mouthed jerk, who, at all times, tries to accommodate to Kiyoomi’s needs. There is no one else like him, someone so aggravating yet so understanding; Kiyoomi is very much fond of his everything. Over a year of relationship and he doesn’t remember _ever_ admitting this fact to his former significant other. If he did, perhaps Atsumu wouldn’t have left him like this; to break and crumble apart while waiting for the pedestrian crossing light to turn green.

Kiyoomi glances up to the right, where a picture of his team—MSBY Black Jackals—is sprawled out across a horizontal billboard. He recalls the very first time he wins a match with them.

_Kiyoomi—along with the rest of his teammates—were all in the locker room, discussing which restaurant was best suited for their victory team dinner. He had a few restaurants in mind, ones that he had been to only because his cousin Komori needed a friend for his culinary adventures. He wanted to join in, but finding the slightest gap in their discussion where he could insert himself in seemed impossible._

_The conversation flowed too smoothly. There was no gap for someone like Kiyoomi to slip in, he felt left out. It couldn’t be helped, he had nearly slipped away before a certain guy with bleached hair showed up._

_“Whoa there, where are ya going, Omi-Omi?” Atsumu asked, his arms stretching out to block the way out._

_“Home.”_

_“Home?” he repeated._

_“Yes, home. Now get out of my way.” Kiyoomi rolled his eyes in annoyance. Atsumu laughed, Kiyoomi didn’t understand what was so funny at all._

_“But Omi-kun, we’re having a team dinner! We just won a big game of the season. Ya need to come celebrate it with yer new teammates.”_

_Kiyoomi stood silent for a while. He prayed that the surgical mask covering his face was enough to make his expression unreadable._

_“I thought I wasn’t invited,” Sakusa mumbled quietly, tearing his gaze away from Atsumu._

_“Speak up, will ya? you can’t expect me to hear ya in that volume.”_

_“I thought I wasn’t invited,” Sakusa repeated, louder this time. This earned another laugh from Atsumu._

_“The hell, we aren’t assholes. Yer a part of the team now, of course yer invited.”_

_Sakusa couldn’t bring himself to look straight at Atsumu. He was embarrassed, refusing to believe that he just said something that showed a glimpse of his vulnerability._

_“‘Sides, yer the one who ended the match with that nasty spike of yours. I think ya deserve some celebration.”_

_Kiyoomi couldn’t remember his thought process during that night but he did, in fact, join the team dinner. To his surprise, it wasn’t as terrifying as he imagined. He made a discovery that he had been wrong, **awfully wrong** , about his own judgment of Miya Atsumu from the first time they encountered each other._

Kiyoomi sighs as he continues walking, he can never forget that night because it is probably the first time his feelings for Atsumu grow. 

Atsumu. _oh-so-tender Miya Atsumu_. Behind his cocky, disdainful facade on court; high-spirited, playful mannerisms who never stops finding ways to tease his teammates; there is a tender side of him which Kiyoomi spends a lot of time observing. When he speaks, there is always a fragment of tension in the air getting cleared; always a few grams of weight on shoulders getting lifted; but most importantly, there is always one less individual feeling excluded.

Kiyoomi wishes that he can turn back the time. He keeps on wondering about what would happen if he just went home that night, would the end result still be the same? Or would he have been able to prevent the way he’s feeling right now? Under no circumstances will Kiyoomi ever regret what he shared with Atsumu, but can you blame a man for not wanting to feel heartbreak? 

Kiyoomi was young and he _thought_ that he knew everything. It had been another thing he was wrong about.

But now that he has been through it all, he _does_ know. He knows perfectly how it feels to long for someone—to be hopelessly reaching out to thin air, trying to grasp something that does not exist anymore.

Somehow, after the most painful walk of Kiyoomi’s life, he arrives at his home. His one-bedroom apartment is neat due to his constant need to make sure everything is in the right place. Neat, clean,—Kiyoomi steps inside to turn on the radiator—warm. Everything is just right. Or at least that’s what he tells himself.

Kiyoomi falls to his usual routine when he gets home after practice. First, he puts his practice clothes—a pair of black athletic shorts and a neon green shirt all drenched in sweat—away. Second, he changes his clothes into something more comfortable. Today he settles for grey sweats and a slightly oversized black sweater. Third, he enters the kitchen to make himself a cup of black tea. Warm, no sugar, bitter just like how he likes it best. Fourth, he sits in on the comfort of his beige-colored velvet couch to relax. (It used to be “To spend quality time with Atsumu” but that is long gone now.)

Kiyoomi sits in silence, sipping his tea, careful not to burn the tip of his tongue. _So, What now?_

Unable to take in the silence, Kiyoomi grabs the remote sitting beside him and flicks on the television. He changes the screen to the sports channel, hoping to find a volleyball match that he could watch and analyze. He finds a basketball match instead, and Atsumu’s favorite team is playing. _Oh no_. He changes the channel. A cooking show, the one that provides recipes that Atsumu loves to try out. _Shit_. He changes the channel again. This time it’s an old soap opera, one that Atsumu likes to watch just so he can make fun of its melodramatic script and acting. Kiyoomi flicks off the television and settles his mug down on the coffee table in front of him. Then he notices the gold-colored number thirteen printed on the mug. Atsumu’s jersey number. He is drinking from an Atsumu merchandise. _Fuck my whole life._

Kiyoomi stands up. He needs to do something. Anything to keep his mind busy.

He needs to clean.

Then everything becomes a blur. Just a moment ago, every single thing in this apartment was neatly in place. But now Kiyoomi is sitting in the middle of endless clothing piles. He digs through them, trying to separate the clothes he still wants to use from the ones he wants to discard. He finds himself staring at pieces of clothing that he hasn’t worn or even seen in quite a while. He finds clothes that are associated with both good and bad memories. He doesn’t know whether to feel happy or depressed.

 _It’s fine. I am going to be fine_ , Kiyoomi keeps on trying to reassure himself. That is until he finds a piece of fabric that doesn’t belong to him.

Kiyoomi lifts said fabric up to take a closer look at it. He wants to curse himself for finding Atsumu’s old cardigan at the worst time possible. He examines the item. The fabric feels soft against his palm. One of its buttons is missing and the bright maroon color is already starting to fade. A stream of memory rushes back into his mind. He clutches the fabric tightly and pulls it into his chest.

Kiyoomi is reminded of one night in the spring of the previous year. 

_Sleep had refused both him and Atsumu. It was late but they went out anyway, just for a breath of fresh air._

_“Hey look, the moon’s lookin’ pretty tonight, isn’t it?” Atsumu said as they strolled down the pathway of a nearby park. Kiyoomi looked up, it was indeed looking pretty. There were no clouds to be seen; the full moon and its constellation gleamed under the night sky._

_“I guess,” Kiyoomi answered. Then there was a gust of wind, sending shivers through his body. He rubs his arms together for a little bit of heat from the friction._

_“Mmm this is nice, I feel like we’re in a romance mo— wait, are ya shiverin’?”_

_“Yeah, a little bit,” Kiyoomi answered honestly because there was no reason to lie. Atsumu was like Kiyoomi’s lie detector anyway; there wasn’t a single dishonest Kiyoomi moment that he couldn’t detect._

_“That’s why I told ya to wear a jacket. If ya just listen to me for once in yer life, this wouldn’t happen. Now yer gonna freeze to death.”_

_“Don’t be dramatic, I’m not gonna die.”_

_Atsumu stopped walking. He turned to face Kiyoomi, sighing and then slipping out of his cardigan. He started to inch closer._

_“What are you doing?” Kiyoomi asked._

_“Shush, Omi-kun. I’m tryna’ do somethin’ romantic while we’re still under da moonlight,” Atsumu answered as he flung the cardigan over Kiyoomi’s shoulders. Kiyoomi couldn’t help but giggle at his remark._

_“You’ve been watching way too much of those soap operas,” Kiyoomi said while trying to fit both his arms into the sleeves._

_“And what ‘bout it, huh?” Atsumu spouted back. Kiyoomi watched him as he buttoned the cardigan all the way up. He caught Atsumu’s gaze when he finally looked up. His eyes; those dark shades of brown seeded Kiyoomi's sudden awareness of the close proximity between them. He didn’t want to pull away just yet._

_“Ya look really pretty up close, Omi-kun.”_

_“I know.” Kiyoomi smiled under his mask._

_“Well, that’s a new attitude comin’ from ya,” Atsumu said, so obviously staring at Kiyoomi’s lips._

_“Are you gonna do it?”_

_“Huh?”_

_“Are you gonna kiss me or not?” Atsumu looked surprised._

_“Err, is that even okay for you?”_

_Kiyoomi didn’t answer him. He closed the gap between them instead. Atsumu froze for a brief moment, before finally melting under Kiyoomi’s touch. He circled his arms around Kiyoomi’s neck and suddenly nothing else in the world mattered anymore._

_How dare you, Miya?_ How dare he leave his cardigan behind for Kiyoomi to find? He holds it tightly, burying his face into the soft fabric. He starts sniffing it. _Nothing._ It doesn’t even smell like his former lover anymore. He feels his throat closing in as his hands start to tremble. He curses himself once again, for letting yet another good thing slip out of his fingers.

_I miss us, Atsumu._

Kiyoomi wants to scream those words out so he can have him inside Kiyoomi’s arms again, feel his lips against his own again, run fingers through his hair again, and make this apartment feel like home again.

It seems like the universe is against him because the only thing he could do is hear those words.

_“We need to break up, Omi-kun.”_

Kiyoomi can't hold it anymore. He pulls his knees together, and let the tears flow.

**Author's Note:**

> hey !!! thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> if you think there are more content warnings i should add, please do tell me !
> 
> come cry with me on twitter [here](https://twitter.com/atsukiyoo)


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